Of Time Between
by Girl in a White Dress
Summary: Post season 5 finale. Written for the Dearly Departed Ficathon.


Of Time Between

For the Dearly Departed Ficathon. Written for urbandruid who wanted Irina resurrected, Jack/Irina, and Irina/Nadia bonding. Enjoy :)

_Life is a little gleam of time between two eternities._ – Thomas Carlyle

She woke to the sound of screaming in the hallway outside her room. She rolled over to face the wall and pulled her blanket up to cover her head. It didn't block out the sound so she buried her head under the pillow and waited for the screaming to stop. In the beginning, she'd been curious and concerned, but now that she'd been in the asylum for almost a year she was beyond caring.

A year, she thought. Had it really been that long? She ran her hand along the scratches she'd made in the wall to mark the passage of time and stopped counting when she reached three hundred.

She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep, to go away from this place, to return to the dream of a silver-haired man with dark eyes. She didn't know who he was, only that she must have known him in her previous life. In some of the dreams he was younger and smiled more; in others he was trying to kill her.

Then there were the dreams where they made love, and these were the dreams she liked the most. The knowledge that at some point someone had loved her was really all that kept her alive in this place.

The screaming stopped, and turned into sobbing instead. Despite herself, she wondered who it was and what had happened. She could go to the common area where the other patients spent their days and find out, but she didn't like sitting there and looking at them.

She didn't belong here. She wasn't like them.

She kept telling herself that, and thought it didn't matter that she dreamed of a man she didn't know and couldn't even remember who she was. She wasn't crazy.

She drifted into sleep again, and this time the dream was jumbled. In her half-awake, half-asleep state, she saw a pig-tailed girl on a swing. The man was pushing the swing, the girl shouting, "Higher! Higher! I want to fly!" Suddenly there was a shift; the sound of a baby crying and a woman pleading, "Let me hold her!"

"Mama."

She woke and sat up. The face of the little girl was still clear in her mind, but she didn't recognize her. Then she tensed, realizing she wasn't alone in the room.

"Hello, Irina."

She studied the person who had spoken; an unfamiliar woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties. The woman seemed to know her, though, and she wondered if she could be trusted. "Irina?"

"That's your name."

"Irina," she repeated. "Who are you?"

"Nadia."

Irina – she liked the name even if it wasn't hers – looked at Nadia and saw that she wasn't dressed like a patient. "How did you get in here?"

Nadia smiled. "I snuck in."

"Why?" She wasn't sure she could trust her, but it would be nice to talk to someone who wasn't insane for a change.

"I wanted to see you. We met once."

"I don't remember you."

"I know." Nadia's smile turned sad. "I'm here to help you."

"They won't let you stay long."

"They won't know I'm here."

"They'll be here soon to bring my medication. Where do you plan to hide?" Irina gestured to the sparsely furnished room.

"They can't see me."

Maybe she was wrong; maybe Nadia was a patient here. "Why not?"

"I'm dead."

Irina started laughing. Nadia came and sat next to her on the bed, then put her hand on Irina's knee. When her hand went through Irina, Irina's laughter faded. "No, I'm still dreaming, or this is a hallucination. Maybe I am crazy—"

"You're not crazy."

"There are no such things as ghosts."

"Yes, there are."

She shook her head. "You're not real."

"You don't have to believe me. But I promise that I'm here to help you."

The door opened and Irina's doctor entered the room. "Who were you talking to?"

Irina looked at Nadia, whom she could still see, then to her doctor. She shook her head, confused. "No one."

He held out a small plastic cup. "Time for your medicine."

"Don't take it," Nadia said. "Trust me. Please."

Irina took the cup and raised it to her mouth.

"If you want to know about the man in your dream you can't take it."

Irina emptied the contents of the cup into her mouth then handed it back to the doctor. "Good girl," he said, then left the room.

"You shouldn't have done it," Nadia said.

Irina spat the pills into her hand, looked at Nadia and smiled. "Okay. Now talk."

"I don't think Jack's dead. I haven't felt him here."

"Jack? That's his name?"

Nadia nodded.

"Who is he?"

"You already know that."

"I don't know what's true anymore."

Nadia stood. "Let's go for a walk."

"To see the other crazy people?"

"To work at getting you out of here."

Irina shrugged and stood up. "It's not as if there's anything else to do."

They walked slowly down the hallway to the common room. Nadia had an expression of disgust on her face. "I'm sorry you've had to spend so much time here."

"I've been in worse places."

Nadia looked at her expectantly. "Do you remember?"

She thought for a moment then shook her head. "No."

When they reached the common area, Irina glanced around the room and sighed.

"Let's sit in the corner there," Nadia said.

Irina raised her eyebrows; the table Nadia was pointing to was already occupied by an elderly woman scribbling in a sketchbook.

"Trust me," Nadia said.

"Fine." Irina walked over and pulled out a chair. The woman looked up suspiciously and covered the page she'd been working on. Then she tore a page from her book and slid it across the table.

"No copying."

Irina looked at the piece of paper, then at Nadia.

"You have to write a letter."

"Write it yourself."

"I can't."

"Well, that's too bad."

"Don't you want to know who you are? Don't you want to leave this place?"

Irina hesitated before picking up a pencil. "I don't what I'm supposed to say."

Nadia smiled, and began to speak. Irina wrote down exactly what she said, then folded the page in half and scribbled the address Nadia dictated.

"Mother!" A young woman about Nadia's age greeted the woman who'd given Irina the paper. "You're looking well. Are you drawing again?"

The old woman clutched her notebook to her chest and scowled at the newcomer. "Who are you?"

"It's Lia, Mama." She smiled at Irina. "Hi, are you a friend of my mother's?"

"Kind of," Irina answered cautiously. "Could you do me a favour?"

"Sure." Irina held out the note. "Could you see that this gets delivered?"

Lia took it and nodded. "Okay."

"Thank you." Irina smiled and stood up. "Enjoy your visit with your mother."

She and Nadia returned to her room. "It's good to know not everything's changed," Nadia said.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Nadia sat on the bed. "So tell me, can you remember anything yet?"

"No."

"It'll come back, don't worry."

Irina sat next to Nadia. "How did you die?"

"My father killed me."

That wasn't the answer Irina was expecting and she instinctively reached out to comfort Nadia, then stopped when her hand passed through Nadia's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Nadia shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Maybe it was meant to be, so that I could help you."

"And why have you decided to help me?"

Nadia said nothing for a long time. "You'll figure it out."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"I have to go. Promise me you won't take any more medication."

"Nadia—"

"Promise!"

Irina held Nadia's gaze, then nodded. "I promise."

"I'm sorry we didn't get to spend more time together." Nadia smiled, then disappeared.

Irina blinked a few times, wondering if what she'd just seen was possible. She recalled another conversation: _"Maybe when all this is over we could spend some time together."_

_"I'd like that."_

And Irina knew.

* * *

She was dancing with Jack, but there was a coolness in his expression. Then he put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

She woke up, her pulse racing, and half-expected to see Nadia in the room again. When she realized she was alone, she was surprised at the disappointment she felt. As she lay back down, she told herself she'd imagined the whole thing; that she'd invented a daughter who didn't exist.

But it been four days and she was still not taking her medication.

The door opened and Irina wearily looked to see who was there. She didn't recognize either the young man or the woman, though she thought they looked more like doctors than patients.

"Good God, what have they done to you?" The man spoke with an English accent.

The woman slowly crossed the room. "Rishka?"

"What do you want?" Irina asked.

"I got your letter."

Irina couldn't reply for a moment. "You're Katya?"

"Yes." Katya sat next to Irina and brushed the hair out of Irina's face. "You need to ask?"

Irina ducked her head and shifted further away from Katya.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

"I don't remember anything."

Katya nodded. "I'm your sister. This is Julian Sark."

"If you don't remember anything," Sark said, "how did you know who to write to?"

"Nadia told me."

Katya and Sark exchanged glances, and Katya took Irina's hand. "Nadia's—"

"Dead. I know." She gave a weak smile. "I can't explain it."

The door opened again and Irina's doctor entered. Before Irina knew what was happening, Sark had the doctor pressed up against the wall, a gun at his neck.

"Nedim," Katya hissed. "This is Elena's doing, isn't it?"

"M-Miss Derevko, I—"

"What have you been doing to Irina?"

"I haven't been hurting her." He looked at Irina. "Tell them I haven't been hurting you."

Irina said nothing.

"It would be in your best interest to tell us the truth, Dr. Nedim," Sark said.

"I was paid to – to look after her. To make sure she stayed here and didn't – didn't remember anything."

"Elena?"

Nedim nodded.

Katya walked up to him and pulled a knife out of a sheath on her ankle. "You would have done well to remember where your loyalty first lay."

Then she shoved her knife into Nedim's stomach. "Did you forget the price for betrayal?"

Sark stepped back and Nedim slid to the floor. Katya turned back to Irina. "We need to go."

"Go where?"

"Mongolia."

"Mongolia? What's in Mongolia?"

Katya's expression was grim. "Elena. Our sister."

Irina looked at the dead doctor then stood up and smiled. "Okay."

* * *

By the time they arrived in Mongolia, Katya had been able to fill in the gaps in Irina's memory. Knowing what she now knew, her dreams made more sense, but she still felt slightly detached from everything that was happening. Sark had been quiet the entire flight, watching her with an expression she couldn't quite define, and it was only when Katya said, "We all thought you were dead," that she understood.

She didn't doubt what Katya had told her; there was a sense of certainty, of familiarity, but she thought it would take a while before the memories returned completely.

"I wish I had never heard of Rambaldi," she said as they traveled to the cave.

Sark smiled. "You're not the first person to say that these days."

When they arrived at the cave, Irina saw evidence of an explosion of some kind, but a path had been cleared through the debris. Irina shivered as they entered, though not from the cold.

"I've been here before."

Katya gave her a strange look. "When?"

"I don't remember." She stepped carefully over some small rocks. "With Elena, I think."

"With Elena?"

She stopped, shook her head. "No. I came alone. To destroy it. Elena was waiting for me."

They reached the inner cavern, and all three stood and stared. Arvin Sloane lay pinned beneath a rock, but was somehow still alive.

"Thank God," he said. "I was hoping you'd come."

No one moved. "Someone cleared a way in," Katya said. "Who was here before us?"

"Monks. They took Jack—"

"Jack was here?" Irina fixed her gaze on Sloane.

"Who do you think did this to me?"

She slowly approached the rock and sank to her haunches beside Sloane. "Is he alive?"

"Yes. Injured, but alive."

Irina nodded, then stood and walked around to examine what remained of the cave.

"Why didn't the monks help you?" Katya asked.

Sloane didn't reply. Irina walked around the ruined cave, running her hand along the rock wall. She heard paper crunch under her foot and bent to pick it up; faded yellow parchment covered in Rambaldi's spidery writing. She moved closer to the light so she could read – it didn't occur to her that there was anything strange about being able to understand the message. She had forgotten that most people needed a cipher key.

"The monks must have known about this."

"Known about what?" Sark's tone held barely veiled curiosity.

"Rambaldi writes of a man who misused the Sphere of Life. His punishment is to spend eternity alone." She looked up. "That must be you."

"You did it?" Sark sounded surprised. "Well, that does explain why the boulder on your chest hasn't killed you."

"Where's Elena?" Katya asked.

"Are you going to help me out?"

Irina stared at one corner of the cave, her frown deepening the longer she remained silent. Then she switched her gaze to Sloane. "You killed Nadia."

"I-"

"You chose Rambaldi over her." She let the parchment fall to the floor. "You're going to have to live with that."

She turned and began to walk out. Sark and Katya glanced at each other then followed her out.

"Elena won't be stopped!" Sloane called after them. "You can't win!"

At the mouth of the tunnel, Sark set an explosive charge. It went off once they were safely out of its reach, and Sloane was sealed in the cave forever.

"I was told you'd died in a fight with Sydney." Katya tucked a strand of Irina's hair behind her ear, then brushed her fingers along Irina's cheekbone. "If it wasn't you, maybe it was Elena."

* * *

Irina followed the monk down a dimly-lit hallway. He stopped about mid-way through and gestured to the door on his right. She smiled and thanked him, then slowly pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

Jack was asleep on the bed, and Irina sat in a nearby chair and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. The monks had said it was a miracle he had survived the cave-in; Irina knew better. She hadn't shared everything she'd read on the scroll in the cave. Rambaldi had written about Jack, too. About love and sacrifice. About life. About beginnings.

She took his hand and held it gently in hers.

A moment later, Jack's eyes fluttered open. "You're supposed to be dead," he rasped.

Irina smiled. "So I've heard."

"Was it you in Sevogda?"

"Yes." She met his gaze. "I never thanked you for letting me walk away that night."

"Where've you been?"

"Turkey." She rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand. "Elena put me in an asylum."

Confusion clouded Jack's eyes. "You killed her."

"I killed her double."

"Ah." He was silent. "Too many doubles running around."

"Yes."

"How do I know you're you?"

She leaned forward and kissed him, then pulled away, breathless. "Was it like this in Vienna?"

"No."

"Has it ever been like this with anyone else?"

"No."

"So?"

He smiled faintly. "Sydney will find this hard to believe."

"What I find hard to believe is that we're grandparents."

His smile widened. "You're the sexiest grandmother I've ever seen."

She started laughing.

"Come closer. I want to hold you."

Irina carefully stretched out next to Jack. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat. "I missed you. Even when I didn't know you, I missed you."

"Don't disappear on me again."

"I'm not going anywhere."

They were quiet for a long time, and Irina felt herself start to doze off when Jack spoke again. "Irina?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"I missed you, too."

1/1


End file.
